


Freely Floating, Softly Falling

by Eratoschild



Series: EC's Kinktober 2018 [16]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftercare, Edging, Glove Kink, M/M, Overstimulation, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, The feels!, breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 16:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eratoschild/pseuds/Eratoschild
Summary: “Leave them on…please?” is Prompto’s request when Ignis pops the snap on the first one.He closes it again, knowing what this means. There’s a heated look in Prompto’s eyes as he steps closer, rises on his toes to plant a kiss on Ignis’s lips, slow and sensual. As he steps back again, undresses, climbs on the bed and lays flat on his back, arms outstretched. He waits for Ignis, watching as he reaches down for restraints.





	Freely Floating, Softly Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Started for Kinktober and the asphyxiation prompt. Finished last night as part of my NaNoWriMo Power Run.

“Leave them on…please?” is Prompto’s request when Ignis pops the snap on the first one.

He closes it again, knowing what this means. There’s a heated look in Prompto’s eyes as he steps closer, rises on his toes to plant a kiss on Ignis’s lips, slow and sensual. As he steps back again, undresses, climbs on the bed and lays flat on his back, arms outstretched. He waits for Ignis, watching as he reaches down for restraints.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ignis runs a slow hand down the inside of one thigh, slips his fingers down to the back of his knee, massaging gently for a moment before he lifts the leg high enough to meet his mouth, tongue probing the smooth, sensitive skin over the tendons and tender spots, over and over again, stroking his thigh as he does.

Prompto swears and writhes under the firm, warmtongue stroking, relentlessly over the back of his knee, the gloved hand running over his thighs, touching him so close, but always avoiding – often just narrowly – his cock.

When Prompto is good and worked up, Ignis lowers his leg to the bed again, securing a restraint around his ankle. Moving to the other side of the bed, he takes up Prompto’s other leg bringing his mouth behind the freckled knee, lavishing attention on it with his tongue, spending endless minutes kissing and sucking, still stroking his thighs.

Prompto reclines on the bed and lets Ignis take hold of him, reveling in the stretching of his muscles where his leg is lifted into the air, pushed – he loves how Ignis pushes him – straight up. He’ll still feel the stretch later and that’s one of the things he loves most about what Ignis does to him. The stretch in his hamstrings the next day, the slight pull in his step, may be even better than the way that wicked mouth feels on the back of his knee, probing and sucking much like it would do for more intimate spots, but here, he can watch, see the look plainly on Ignis’s face, the look he gets when he knows he’s driving Prompto crazy, holds his leg more firmly in the air as his tongue makes its way among the dips and crevices of skin and tendon, it’s almost indecent, in a way that very nearly supersedes what his mouth does to other parts of his body.

And he’s lowering the leg, securing it with a restraint, pushing the one just as high, the stretch feels just as good. The tongue… gods, the tongue. Ignis has practically made him come like this before, with just a cursory few strokes to his cock – almost an afterthought – to push him over the edge. But for tonight, this is a starter, nothing more, and his leg is soon on the bed again, a cuff wrapping around that ankle to restrain him before Ignis moves to secure his wrists, standing back to admire the view.

Oh, what this does to him to see, Prompto writhing, falling apart at the simple flicking of a tongue behind his knee, the intake of breath as his leg is pushed back, the whisper, “gods…” as he pulls away.

Once secured; by wrists and ankles, Ignis stands back for a moment to admire the tableau before him, freckled legs and arms spread, pulled taut. His cock, as prettily freckled as the rest of him, stands erect. His head is tossed back and to the side, exposing his neck, while periwinkle eyes followed his movements.

Ignis kneels beside him on the bed, leaning to kiss that neck, turned so nicely for his access. A hand reaches down to stroke his thigh again as he does.

“Stay good and still for me,” Ignis instructs, knowing well that he won’t. Prompto’s body is so nice and responsive to everything Ignis does, even when he’s trying to remain motionless. Ignis loves watching him struggle against his restraints. Well-trained muscles pulling and flexing at his bonds, all because of what he does.

And what Ignis does now is to touch him. Everywhere, the leather of his gloves- his very softest pair- glide over every part of him. Almost.

Bringing one up to pinch at a nipple, Prompto arches against his hand, lifts his head to press into the kiss as best he can with the way his restraints limit his range of motion.

Helpless. He’s helpless, vulnerable to Ignis’s hands all over him, teasing, pinching, trailing. He can’t help but whine faintly. “Please,” he tries, hoping Ignis will grant him some relief.

“Oh no love, not yet.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Perhaps. But you asked for it,” Ignis counters. Unfortunately, he has a point.

When Ignis leans down to nibble and lick at a nipple, he arches against his lover’s mouth, gloved fingers pinch at the other trail down his abs, then into the creases above his thighs, then lower.

How did he ever think he would be able to withstand his, his lover’s assault of mouth and hands on all parts of his body – all but one- when Ignis is so patient, Prompto would swear he’d wait forever if he felt like it.

When Ignis again stands straight, Prompto knows his suffering will come to an eventual end, judging by the bulge in his pants and the rasp in his voice. Ignis has his tells. But, despite this, it could still be a while. He lifts an eyebrow and licks his lips.

Well you seem very interested in something,” Ignis comments, studying Prompto’s face, leaning for a kiss.

“Because I see something interesting,” Prompto tells him, turning his eyes up to Ignis, fluttering his lashes enticingly.

“Come on, babe. Please?”

“Mmm, darling, no,” Ignis whispered in his ear. “Not yet.”

Ignis loves the feel of the struggle, flexing muscle and tension against the restraints. They both love this, the struggle, the resistance, the exertion. It’s touch – only touch – but so much more.

So much more than the pulse of blood through veins, so much more than a pounding heart, a heavy breath, it’s more than hands on skin, of one lover immobilized by the other.

It’s the hunter, toying with his prey, the touches, innocuous, pleasurable, but Prompto can do nothing to stop them, defenseless to his lover’s quiet mercilessness. He may plead and beg and tease but so long as Ignis chooses to continue he’ll keep drawing out his body’s responses, pulling the sounds, the movements from him, all of the responses he’s powerless to hold back, unrestrained in his restraint. He loves it, asks for it, but when Ignis grants his desire it’s like having the most intense of itches with no ability to scratch it, and it only increases in intensity as his lover refuses to relent in his demand for reaction.

It’s a thing of beauty, Ignis knows, the body that can’t help its reaction as it becomes more and more sensitive to the merest touch, pinch, brush. It’s a thing of power that he gets to control. He pushes, pushes ninety nine times, pulls back a hundred and starts all over again. The trigger grows shorter each time until Prompto is nearly screaming at the ghost of a breath over this untouched cock, writhing in the most beautiful agony, shivering, shaking.

And all of it by his own hand.

Prompto gazes up at Ignis, hazy, nearly delirious with arousal and desire. He doesn’t want to wait, but he knows Ignis will make him wait as long as it pleases him as long as he can drag it out, and as long as he still has clothing on, Prompto knows he’s not getting it yet.

But still, he loves the feel of hands on him, all over him, the leather whispering over his skin, the mouth, licking and sucking and kissing him everywhere, almost, and while other times Ignis would happily take him in his mouth and work him over to the edge and back half a dozen times before finally allowing him a shattering release – but that’s not what he asked for, and Ignis is set on putting forth every effort to honor his request.

Another few moments and he’s utterly trembling. Ignis must have decided it’s time to let him wait no more, he’s stepped away, just enough to be out of reach, and started removing his clothes, ensuring he’s in full view, knowing how his slow undress fuels the moment.

Finally, now fully naked, with the exception of those gloves,Ignis steps closer to him again. “On or off, love?”

“On.” Prompto chooses and Ignis gracefully climbs on the bed and straddles Prompto’s thighs, looking down at him with a tender smile. “You are so beautiful, love.”

And he believes it’s true. He always believes Ignis, even if he doesn’t think he is, he believes that Ignis believes it, and he shows him over and over again.

Ignis is sitting back an inch from his hard, throbbing cock. And now comes the last round of kissing, sucking, licking, touching, everywhere except there, he’s so close he knows this won’t last long but it’s what he’s been waiting for and his nerves sing as Ignis flicks at a nipple.

“Oh, you are ready, aren’t you?” Ignis breathes.

“Yeah,” Prompto replies in the ghost of a whisper as Ignis leans down for a kiss, deep and languid, then sits up again, flicking his nipples, then sliding that hand up fingers pressing lightly as they advance higher. Ignis’s other hand moves towards his cock, not quite touching yet.

“No…” Prompto stops Ignis, who pulls his hands away at once.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just… off, okay?” he askes with an angelic smile. “I just want to feel you.”

“Anything you want,” Ignis says, peeling the gloves off. “Just say when.”

“Ok, now,” Prompto replies, drawing a long, anticipating breath as the hands settle on his skin again, one resting first on his cheek, thumb swiping across his lips. As it does, Prompto flicks out his tongue across the tip.

“All right, love,” that warm hand moves from his cheek to his jaw, settles on his throat, but applies no pressure.

Ignis is positioned so that he can take them both in his other hand, stroking them both slowly together. A cry starts building in Prompto’s throat. His eyes flutter and close as release draws quickly closer. The hand at his throat bears down, gently, the lightest of pressure at first, thumb brushing the side of his neck gently as Ignis whispers sweet words, still stroking their cocks, more firmly so now.

Prompto gulps air, his whole body screaming for release. The pressure on his throat growing slowly, steadily, his limbs jerking taut against his restraints. Ignis gives them a few more strokes.

“Now, darling,” he softly commands, pressing more firmly.

Everything goes black. He’s flying, falling in a weightless rush, release hitting him like a freight train in midair and he’s struggling for breath. It feels like eternity, but he knows it’s barely seconds before air again fills his lungs while he continues to jerk and tremble with his orgasm. Ignis, tense and panting is still stroking both of them to full completion as he blinks up at him, bleary-eyed and dazed before finally collapsing in his restraints.

“That was lovely,” Ignis tells him with a kiss to his sweat-soaked hair. “How do you feel?”

He has no immediate words in response. How does he describe how it is to come down from the high of relinquishing his body to his lover’s control,putting his life in his very hands?

“Why don’t we get you free?” Ignis suggests, understanding, grabbing tissues to wipe his hands first, before he starts to remove the restraints. As he does, he rubs gently at the newly liberated wrist or ankle, kissing where it had been secured, on of their little rituals.

“Can I have some tea?” he asks.

“Of course, love. You’re okay with me to go get it?”

“I’m fine,” he says.

Ignis returns, barely a minute later. “Here you are, love.”

Laying down in the bed beside Prompto, he holds the cup to his lips. “Good?”

“Good,” Prompto smiles. Mint tea, just a bit more than lukewarm, and a bit of honey to sooth his scratchy throat. Ignis always holds the cup for him so he doesn’t have to worry about dripping it. This, too, is their ritual.

“I think I’m okay now,” he says, and Ignis puts the tea down. Prompto turns on his side and curls into Ignis’s arms, they lay like that for a long time, reveling in the contact of their close proximity, bare skin and body heat. Ignis reaches up to turn off the light on the bedside table. Breathing easily, they soon fall into peaceful sleep

 


End file.
